Hurry up, April

[Deborah Lee]

Now, that the season
of blue skies and sunshine
has turned cold and grey
I cannot help but pine.

I'll miss my porch swing
the green grass in my yard
brilliant red roses
fall and winter is hard.

The song of sparrows
in the quiet warm dawn
it's the feeling of peace
I feel now has gone.

Trapped inside four walls
deathly quiet outside
spring seems far away
natures beauty has died.

Dark months always seem
to be cruel in my mind.
The low skies are crushing
bitter cold is unkind.

Like always, I wait
for the first bird to sing
hurry up, April
I push hard for the spring.